‘No,’ said Strike. ‘But you’re confident it was Knowles, are you?’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Todd, still grinning. ‘No, it was Knowles. We all agreed, me, Ken and Pamela.’
‘Pamela’s got difficulties with her sight, though, hasn’t she?’
‘What? Yeah, but she ain’t
‘Did the police show you any pictures, other than Jason Knowles’?’
‘Showed us a couple, yeah,’ said Todd.
‘Can you remember the names of the men concerned?’
‘One of ’em was a soldier.’
Strike made a note before saying,
‘Was Knowles’ picture a mugshot?’
‘Yeah,’ said Todd, and answering the unasked question he said, ‘it weren’ just that. ’E looked like Wright.’
‘Wright was pretty well disguised, from what I’ve seen on the shop’s security footage.’
‘Well… yeah,’ admitted Todd.
‘Looked like he was one of those men who can grow a thick beard,’ said Strike.
‘It was fick, yeah,’ conceded Todd. ‘Some blokes can do that, can’ they? Go from ’ere’ – Todd tapped a stubby forefinger at a point two inches beneath his eye – ‘to ’alfway down yer neck. Pamela told ’im to tidy it up a bit, but Wright told me ’e ’ad acne scarring. Wanted to keep it ’idden.’
‘Really?’ said Strike, and he made another note before saying, ‘I’ve got a few pictures here, if you wouldn’t mind having a look. I think you’ll have seen at least one of them before.
Sure enough, when Todd laid eyes on the pictures of Niall Semple, he said,
‘Yeah, that’s ’im, that’s the soldier.’
He passed over the picture of Tyler Powell with a slight shake of the head, but lingered, grinning again, over the photo of the man Strike had no choice but to call Dick de Lion, until they found out his real name. In the least lewd picture of him Strike had managed to find online, de Lion was shirtless.
‘Woss ’e – a stripper?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ said Strike.
‘Mind, ’e
‘Fake tanned?’
‘Yeah. Could of bin ’im, maybe…’
Todd squinted, and Strike assumed he was trying to visualise the blond Dick de Lion with dark hair, a full beard and glasses. De Lion had brown eyes and very white teeth, although these had possibly been enhanced in the photograph.
‘
‘How sure are you? Out of ten?’
‘Dunno… five? But it
Instead of finishing the sentence, Todd raised his right hand and let it hang, limply, from his wrist.
‘What?’ said Strike. ‘Camp?’
‘Poncey. Yeah.’
Todd turned from the picture of de Lion to that of Rupert Fleetwood.
‘Nah,’ he said, ‘don’ fink so.’
He handed the pictures back.
‘Did you have much to do with Wright, at the shop?’ Strike asked.
‘A bit.’
‘Talk to him at all?’
‘A bit,’ repeated Todd.
‘What was his accent like? Did he sound like he was from Doncaster?’
‘Wouldn’ know ’ow that sounded,’ said Todd.
‘He couldn’t have been Scottish, and faking an English accent?’
‘Don’t fink so.’
‘Or trying to sound more working class than he was?’
‘One of them’s posh, is ’e?’ said Todd, gesturing towards Strike’s pictures.
Strike ignored the question.
‘What did you and Wright talk about?’
‘Freemasons,’ said Todd promptly, grinning again. ‘’E asked questions about ’em, all the bloody time.’
‘Are you one?’ asked Strike.
‘Hahaha,’ said Todd. ‘Not me, guv.’
He buried his face in his pint and drank a couple of inches before setting it down again.
‘D’you think he got interested in Freemasons after starting work at the shop, or was this something he’d been interested in before he was hired?’
‘Dunno. ’E was def’nitely into it all, though. Wen’ an’ looked round Freemasons’ ’All, in ’is lunch hour.’
‘Really?’ said Strike.
‘Oh, yeah. I was walkin’ down Great Queen Street, just goin’ to one of me ovver jobs, an’ I seen Wright goin’ in there. I says to ’im, next time I seen ’im, “find any sacrificial goats?” Hahaha.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘Said ’e wanted to see Temple Seventeen.’
‘Why?’
‘Dunno, ’e wouldn’t say. Just said “I wan’ed to see it”. After I found out ’e was Knowles, though, I fort, “Temple Seventeen my arse, ’e was up to sumfing to do wiv the silver ’e was gonna nick”. They’ve got a museum in there, in Freemasons’ ’All, an’ a shop, wiv books in it. I fort, “’e was lookin’ stuff up. Tryina find out what it was all worf, that Whatsit silver.”’
‘Did you tell the police Wright had visited Freemasons’ Hall?’
‘Yeah, ’course,’ said Todd smugly.
‘Did Wright ever tell you someone might come looking for him?’
‘No,’ said Todd, ‘opposite.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I fort there was a guy watching the shop. I seen ’im ’angin’ around a few times. After I seen ’im the fird time, I told Wright, keep an’ eye out for ’im. Big guy, same kinda size as you. Just ’angin’ around. But when I told ’im, Wright said ’e’d seen ’im, an’ ’e worked at the Connaught Rooms. Didn’ give a toss. After, I fort, “accomplice, wannit”.’
‘Did you tell Pamela or Kenneth about this man?’
‘Didn’ wanna worry ’em. Anyway, it was Wright’s job, ’e was s’posed to be security.’
‘What about the police, did you tell them about this guy?’
‘Yeah, I fink I did. Yeah,’ said Todd, and he took another gulp of beer.
‘Did this man have dark curly hair?’